


stitches

by escapismandsharpobjects



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Stabbing, Stitches, Whump, Whumptober 2020, yes i have already stabbed nick before yes i will be stabbing him again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27073834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects
Summary: whumptober day 17 - prompt: stitches (alt no.4). nick, monroe, and rosalee are hiking, but of course something goes wrong. luckily monroe has a first-aid kit.
Relationships: Nick Burkhardt & Monroe, Nick Burkhardt & Rosalee Calvert, Nick Burkhardt & Rosalee Calvert & Monroe (Grimm), Rosalee Calvert/Monroe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	stitches

**Author's Note:**

> hey what's up!! i don't really like this fic which sucks bc i was so excited to write it but oh well. such is life. i would suggest not thinking too hard about the circumstances of the stabbing bc. they don't matter that much but whatever lol. i hope that you enjoy!!

“We should go this way, right?”

“No, look at the map, it’s to the left.”

“It is? Where are we then?”

“Nick, have you ever used a map before?”

_ “Yes.” _

“Okay, well, I’m telling you, it’s to the left.”

Nick shrugs. “Okay. It’s to the left.”

Monroe pats him on the shoulder. “Knew you’d come around.”

They turn down the trail to the left, stepping over a fallen tree. They make it a few hundred yards before Rosalee stops in the middle of the path.

“Is something wrong?” Nick asks, immediately on the lookout for danger.

Rosalee stays perfectly still for a moment, then sighs and relaxes. “I thought I heard something,” she says. “But I don’t hear it anymore.”

“What kind of something?” asks Monroe, looking around cautiously. 

“It was probably nothing.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.”

“So will I.”

“Really, guys, I’m sure it was nothing. It was probably just-”

Whatever Rosalee had been about to say, it certainly wasn’t what came crashing through the bushes in front of them: a figure, cloaked in black, brandishing a shiny silver dagger. 

The trio freeze in surprise, momentarily, but Nick’s cop/Grimm instincts kick in quickly enough, and he steps forward, positioning his body in front of his friends.

He raises his hands slightly, hoping to show that he’s not a threat, and says, “could you put that down? There’s no need for this to get out of hand.” 

Of course, he doesn’t know what, exactly,  _ it  _ is, a fact that the cloaked figure points out. “You don’t know what this is,” it says. “But you will.”

Before Nick has a chance to react to that foreboding message, the figure is rushing forwards, and Nick reaches an arm behind him to cover Monroe and Rosalee, pushing them to the side and trying to step out of the figure’s path.

Which only half works. Monroe and Rosalee get out of the way, and Nick steps to the side, but the figure reaches out with the dagger, and then Nick feels the metal stabbing and ripping into his skin, and then, abruptly, it is gone, and he collapses to the ground with a yelp.

For a second, all he can think of is _ pain, _ hot and sharp and very terribly  _ wet, _ and then there’s a noise nearby and he thinks of his friends.

“Monroe,” he calls out, “Rosalee. You okay?”

He hears a rustling from nearby, and then a gasp and a groan of sympathetic pain. “We’re better than you, buddy,” says Monroe.

“Where...where’d he go?” Nick asks. 

“That cloaked dude?” Monroe looks around worriedly. “He just kinda...disappeared.”

“Great,” Nick says, and then he tries to stand up. He is almost immediately stopped by Rosalee’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t do that, Nick,” she warns. He decides it’s a good idea to listen, and lies back against the rocky ground. 

“How bad is it?” he asks. Judging by the amount of blood he can feel soaking into the ground around him, he has a pretty good idea, but he needs to hear it from someone else.

She sighs, poking his stomach gently to confirm the size of the wound. “It’s not great. Several inches long and pretty deep, too. Monroe’s calling 911.”

“No, I’m not,” Monroe says, sounding agitated. “I’m trying, but we’re kinda in the middle of nowhere out here.” He holds out his phone. “No service.”

“Can we walk back?” Nick suggests, not feeling too keen on the idea of dying in the middle of the woods.

Monroe and Rosalee share a glance, but neither of them says anything.

“What?” Nick asks. “I know it’s bad. Tell me.”

“Realistically, no,” Rosalee says. “That wound is too deep, and you’re bleeding too much. You’d...you’d die before we got out of here.”

“We can stop the bleeding, though,” Monroe says. “I’ve got a first-aid kit in my backpack, there’ll be something in there.”

Nick breathes a sigh of relief as Monroe starts ruffling through his backpack. He tries to listen to the quiet conversation that Monroe and Rosalee are having, but he finds his mind increasingly wandering back to the very familiar topic of pain. Which is, itself, not that bad, in the grand scheme of things. Nick’s had worse, for sure. But he’s never been bleeding out in the middle of nowhere before. It’s not an experience he’d care to replicate.

Monroe breaks him out of his slowly spiraling thoughts. “I’ve got something. You’re not gonna like it, though.”

Nick shakes his head. “Don’t care,” he says. 

“You might,” Rosalee suggests. “It’ll hurt.”

“Will it stop me from dying?”

“Probably,” Monroe says, and then he says, “ow!” when Rosalee smacks him on the shoulder. “It should,” he amends.

“Then I don’t care.”

“Okay,” Rosalee says, and then her voice turns professional. She instructs Monroe to take off his jacket and bundle it up to put under Nick’s head, which Nick wishes she’d done sooner. It feels quite a bit nicer under his head than the ground. Then, she’s cutting at his shirt and peeling it slowly away from his body. He tries to pay attention to anything else besides the pulling feeling as the fabric is pried away from the tacky blood holding it in place.

Then, water is being poured onto his stomach, and it kind of burns but also feels nice, a pleasant cool against the warmth of his own blood. Rosalee kneels down next to him, then, and gives him a shaky smile. Monroe kneels next to her, grabbing Nick’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Rosalee asks.

Nick finally thinks to ask what exactly she plans to do, though he’s got a pretty good idea. 

“I’m going to give you stitches,” is Rosalee’s reply. “We don’t have anything to numb the pain, though. Just a needle and thread.”

“Do it,” Nick decides.  _ It won’t be that bad, _ he figures.

And then the needle enters his skin, pulls through, leaves, and he can  _ feel  _ the thread stretching across his body and he thinks it might be the worst feeling in the world. 

Rosalee does what feels like hundreds of stitches, each one more painful than the last. The whole time, Nick is shaking involuntarily, and he’s biting on his tongue to keep from screaming. His nails dig into the skin of Monroe’s hand, and he clenches his hands up so hard that they start to cramp. Tears are streaming down his face and he’s sweating, both from pain and from the sheer effort it’s taking him to keep quiet. Everything  _ burns, _ and his skin feels hot, and every movement of the needle may as well be another dagger stabbing into him. 

Finally,  _ finally, _ the last stitch is pulled through. The second Rosalee ties off the thread, something in Nick decides it’s held on enough, and a faint whimper of pain escapes him. And then Rosalee’s hands are on his face, and she’s telling him it’s over, it’s over, and she’s crying too, and everything in the world is  _ pain  _ and he’s trying his best not to let it overtake him, trying to focus on her voice saying, “it’s okay, Nick, it’s okay.”

Monroe shifts, then, and moves behind Nick, helping him into a sitting position as gently as he can. He whimpers again -  _ everything hurts  _ \- and then Monroe’s arms are around him, warm and steady and blessedly not painful. He leans back into them for a second, and then there is movement, and everything explodes back into  _ pain, pain, pain. _

Nick passes out just as Monroe picks him up. He shifts Nick slightly in his arms, cradling his head against his chest in the hopes that he won’t get bounced around too much. “You’re gonna be fine,” he says quietly, leaving no room for argument. 

They start walking, Rosalee leading the way, going as quickly as they can without jostling Nick too much and potentially tearing open his new stitches. With every step, they’re looking out for the hooded figure, but whoever it was seems to be long gone. 

Finally, they arrive back at the car, and Monroe deposits Nick carefully into the backseat, then settles himself into the driver’s seat. Rosalee climbs in the back next to Nick, pulling his head to lay on her lap. He’s far too pale, and still trembling, and sweaty, and there’s dried blood all over his body and dried tears all over his face. She runs her fingers through his hair and hopes desperately that he’ll be okay as Monroe starts the car and they begin the journey to the nearest hospital.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this!! i would like to say that Yes don't worry nick is absolutely fine but i just did not want to write yet Another hospital scene, you feel me? but yeah he is completely ok i promise!! hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think!!


End file.
